


Drop

by Chase (Branrush)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Cullen Has Issues, Eyen Amell, F/M, Romance not exactly onesided but without happy ending, Set right before and during Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branrush/pseuds/Chase
Summary: Cullen is tormented by demons (inner and real ones)





	

 

**_"_ ** **Please, let me keep this memory, just this one.. _."  
( Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, _ by Michel Gondry _)_**

 

One drop.

One drop, from his temple. From his eyes. On the floor.

Sweat? Tears? Blood. It has to be blood. ...hasn't it?

One, only one, and everything can be over. The vase overflows, you can say. The nightmare ends.

- **My good Templar... for how long will you torture yourself? When was the last time you slept? Don't you want to lie down, to relax?**

Maybe it isn't a drop. Maybe it isn't the blood, that it seeks. It's his breath? His essence? His soul?

- **Can you still think? Do you know what you desire? What you really want?**

It won't have it. It won't have nothing. Never, not a thing.

Not a drop.

- **I know... I know what you want. I can give it to you. If you _desire_ it.**

He had trained for this. To resist, for days. For weeks. For months...? For how long it will take. He won't  give up. Not to a demon. Never.

- **Look at me... you can see her again. You can talk to her. When was the last time you did? You can touch her. _Have_ her.**

No. No, he can't. But he wants to, oh, more than anything else, he wants _it_. The only one thing he always wanted but could never have.

Temptation.

To open his eyes, have a little look. Only one. To  cease his praying and verify if that voice is really so like _hers_ , like it seems.

Did it always speak like that? It was a demon before... but maybe now... if he will have a look...

No. No no no. Foolishness. _He_ is a fool! He can't. It cant' be. She can't be here. She went away. Helping that mage. ...not helping him? It wasn't fair. It was like Irving and the Knight-Commander wanted to make her go away. From him?

No, impossible. He never said anything. He never _did_ anything. He didn't dare. She was... He was...

- **Cullen. Is this your name? I like it. It fits well in my mouth. _Cullen_. Would you like if I say it? If _she_ says it? In the heights of pleasure, while you make her yours and...**

-Stop it!!!

A cry. It's his? That voice, hoarse, sharp and pathetic? It cant' be his. He was praying. Still, somewhere, he is praying the _Maker_. Andraste. Not that creature.

He would have liked to. To tell it to end this game, to end his suffering, to stop bringing her back to his memory. The mage. Amell. _Eyen_.

He doesn't want to soil her memory. He doesn't want to remember his dreams, to unify desire and reality, until the memory of what really was and what is only longing will be a turmoil of dark agony.

He _needs_.

He needs those memories. Real, happy memories. There was a time when he was happy, wasn't it?

He was tormented, like now. But not _really_ like now. Then he was _happy to be tormented_. If it was her to do it.

One memory... one! Why can't he remember it?

It took them away from him. That demon. One by one, drop by drop, from the storm of his mind.

One!

A memory, of her! There is. It's still there. One. The most important one. Maybe because it is the last?

The last drop.

The last.

 

***

-Cullen? Are you all right?

-What?! I... yes, I'm... I'm fine. Ehm. I was only lost in my thoughts.

_If you can say so_. His hand rose to his neck to caress it and he diverted his gaze, trying to hide the  flushing. To not look at her, while she was at that table... _like that_.

He  wondered if she was doing it on purpose.

Naturally, he knew that she liked cute nighties... everybody knew that! It was the only silly habit of Eyen Amell, apparently, the only way she spent the few money she had: cute underwear from Maker knew which part of Thedas.

Other Templars were almost curious. 'She is always so serious and composed, she wears those bland robes... but she has a nightie in orleasian lace?! Some mages are really strange...' they laughed. It was not like there was much to do, in the Circle Tower: training, praying, praying, training... keeping watch... it was normal to gossip about colleagues or mages.

Yet Cullen would have preferred that they didn't talk _about her_. Usually they didn't, she was one that you seldom notice. She wasn't one to make a mess, like others. She never tried to flee. She never picked a fight. She didn't even have a notable appearance, with that plain features and that dark brown hairs, always tied up... ...once you got used to the tattoo on her face, obviously.

...or to her eyes. But those eyes, so dark and deep... you couldn't get used to those eyes, according to Cullen.

Anyway, usually she went unnoticed. Apart from that damned nighties! ...which were his current problem.

It wasn't strange for the mage to read in the Circle's Library until it was late at night. It wasn't even strange for Cullen to guard her in those moments. It was even _possible_ that it was him to ask for the shift, if during the afternoon he overheard her saying to Jowan that she would have made some research in the night. Ehm.

But usually she would wear the robe. Or something appropriate. She wasn't stupid and she couldn't know who would have gone there and how he would have acted. That night, however, seemed different.

It was certainly a warm evening: in Midsummer, the sun scorched all day on the walls of the Circle's Tower and there was an heat hood that made even Cullen hot in his armor.. even _before_ she came up with that appearance, that is.

Even so, according to him that didn't justify her outfit's choice! _That_ was a nightgown only as a way of speaking, Maker's breath!

Surely it was not from Ferelden! With all those... lace and embroidery and... _see-through_...  It left her shoulders all exposed! Yes, her long hair, loose at the moment, maybe concealed them a little, but...

And those legs! Those long, slim legs... didn't he already spent enough time thinking about them? ...and by  the way, how came all those mages where so fit, in that Tower? Were all the stairs they had to climb every day?!

Despite himself, Cullen gave her another glimpse, furtively: she properly sat along the Library's table, on the first floor of the Tower, and before her there was an open book, big and with a dark cover. She seemed to prefer the moonlight that seeped in from the high, narrow windows and ignored the candle before her; yet, she was frowning.

Suddenly she closed the book with a snap. -This is impracticable.- she said, laconic, then she rose her eyes on Cullen: -Can I use a light globe?

-Ah... well... use of magic is forbidden during night time, especially after last week episode...- he tried to say firmly, but was distracted by the way one of her curls lied on her naked shoulder. For the love of Andraste...

-I don't intend to set fire to the kitchen for a night snack... only to read...- she noticed, with her composed tone, and he ran a hand through his short hair.

-Uhm... I... I'm sorry, but rules are rules.- he declared, clearing his throat, uncomfortable: the curl was now on her bosom and he could not help but follow it with his eyes. He startled and abruptly rose his gaze when she said:

-You are so _stiff_ , Cullen...

The mage, however, wasn't looking at him: she was facing down, collecting her hair and tying them in a chignon. Usually she wore them like that, but that night, maybe for modesty, she left them loose; the hot weather, however, won over her and now she was trying to earn some coolness removing them from her neck.

-You could... you could lit a candle.- he suggested with rasping voice.

-Don't you think it will only make the room hotter? And it's already insufferable as it is... look at you, even you are all red!- she stated, arching a brow. Cullen swallowed.

-It's not... it's only... then maybe you should return to your room in the Apprentice Quarters...- he suggested, stuttering. Surely _he_ would have liked some alone time... that evening was a real torture!

But the mage frowned. She focused for some moments on a distant point, pensive, then she brightened up: -There is the top of the Tower! There, the walled windows are less, because is less likely that someone try to use them to escape... more light pass through and maybe you can even open one wide, letting in some cool air...- she noted.

-But... without supervision...

-You can come with me.

-...or letting the Library unguarded...

-Cullen.- she cut him off and he winced. He rose his gaze on her and he knew he was done the moment when he met her dark eyes, magnetic and able to enmesh him. -Are you sure you are all right? You have been weird all evening... surely some fresh air will be good for you...

-I... oh, for Andraste's sake... all right...- he surrendered, muttering. She, on her part, was quick to get up and take the heavy book under one arm: maybe thanks to the training with the staff, that seemed to be done without much effort and then she waited for him by the big door that granted access to the second floor.

They went up silently. Cullen alternately looked around for his Templar colleagues and glanced sideway to the young woman with him: she walked calmly, as it was a normal afternoon and she was coming back from some lesson...

...and she wasn't wearing that poor excuse of a nightgown. She really didn't do that on purpose? She found it appropriate?! Alright, the torso was covered... more or less... but those _legs_!!! Cullen was torn between the desire to let her go ahead, when they climbed the stairs, and maybe sneak peeking, and the consciousness that it will be really inappropriate.

It was horrible, sweet torture.

When they finally reached the top of the Tower, without meeting anyone but a few other Templars (who, when they saw them, laughed at Cullen but made no move to stop them), he was relieved. And, at the same time, disappointed.

Trying to distract himself, he looked at the room: it was the one on the very top, that they used for official ceremonies, like the Harrowing, and he has been there only few times. It wasn't forbidden, per se, but he didn't really liked the place: there was something there, where so many mages had faced their greatest fear and so few had succeed and not lost their lives, that made run a shiver along his nape.

He glanced again at Eyen, wondering if it was the same for her, and he saw her looking at the elaborated signs decorating the floor and at the bookstands where one could see several arcane volumes. Channels for magical power, maybe.

Moonlight seeped through big windows all along the wall, now more bright, and the mage was a lovely sight with that so damned inappropriate nightie. Maybe...

-We will do it here, won't we?- she asked and he froze, looking at her with wide open eyes.

-W-What?- he asked with high-pitched voice.

-My trial. The Harrowing. First Enchanter Irving said to me that it's almost time.

-...oh! Oh, yeah, exactly, it's here!- he uttered, trying to keep his panic under control and the blushing seized him: _what_ was he thinking about?! How fool he can be?! Maker's breath, he really hoped she didn't understand how inappropriate were his thoughts...

Then her words hit him.

-I was thinking...- she was saying, but he interrupted her:

-Your Harrowing is close?- he repeated and even if his tone of voice tried to hide his emotion, suddenly there was a big burden on his chest.

Of course, the mage was quite strong. Oh, he remembered quite well her combat trainings to which he assisted, it was impossible to forget: she seemed to be a completely different person, her eyes shining with such vitality, and he often saw her _laughing_ when blood gushed out, was it hers or of her opponent...

...but that didn't mean that the Harrowing was going to be a stroll in the garden, for her. It wasn't about physical force or capability to win a fight and he saw several mages choosing Tranquility over having to lose themselves in a demon's spires... and to be consequently slain by Templars in charge to guard them.

Who will be chosen to guard _her_?

And the very idea to lost her was...

-Cullen?

Her voice called him back from the depths of his mind and he rose his gaze quickly, wanting to find her eyes: he needed to see the certainty inside them, where it has always been.

He found it. -...I'm sorry, I was... I didn't think it was already the time.- he murmured, trying to find his cool. -You... Were you able to prepare yourself properly?

-I don't fear it.- she assured him and Cullen almost let escape a sigh of relief.

-No?- he asked with bad concealed hope and she stared at him for a while, then her face softened with a little smile: it was rare, she wasn't very expressive, and Cullen heard his heart beating harder.

-Are you worried, Cullen?- she asked him and he blushed. He scratched his neck, embarrassed, trying to avoid her gaze.

-I-I... it's only that... it will be a real shame if we had to lose such a valuable mage to the Harrowing, that's it!- he stuttered.

-Oh... well, you really have a big _heart_ , then...- she said, amused, and he gulped down on nothing, trying again to not look at her. He reached with quick and heavy steps one of the big windows that took up most of the wall of the chamber.

-D-D-Don't you think it's quite hot here? You were hot! I mean, uhm, here, in this place, it's really hot, isn't it?!- he stammered incoherently, trying to open a window with clumsy gestures. When he heard her steps approaching him, he renewed his efforts, determined to not look back, but he petrified when her hand laid on one of his.

-Cullen...- she said softly and he turned towards her, despite himself. Their eyes met and he couldn't tore his away, while a part of himself told him that, even if it was her body that harassed him, _they_ were what made him lose his mind. -Cullen, this is a glass wall. You can't open it.

There was a moment of silence as he blinked. ...oh.

-Ah... well... I... no... I mean, yes, of course, actually... uhm, then maybe I...- he stuttered, clearing his throat. He looked around and, noticing what seemed like a little french-door, he walked to it. He opened it and found out it gave access to a little balcony: with grace, he gestured to the mage to settle in first. She complied and he used that moment to put an hand on his face, yearning for a hole to open itself under him and let him sink in.

In the end he tried to find his nerve and crossed the threshold; he found out that Eyen placed the heavy book on the banister and she now leaned on it with her forearms. With a little smile on her lips, she was looking at the view under them, letting the wind fondle her face (it was mandatory, given the height of the Tower).

Cullen hesitated, but finally he got to her and she sighed. -So lovely...- she said and he nodded, facing her. Then he blinked and turned to look at the panorama before them.

-...the moon?- he guessed.

She nodded. -It seems limitless... and look at its reflection on the lake...- she noted. Cullen followed her gaze and laid it on the wonderful sight of the ring made by cliffs and architectural structures that optically merged the Circle's Tower and the little city of Kinloch Hold, across Lake Calenhad. The moon shone bright on the smooth water. -You know... when I was younger, sometimes I looked at it from my window, how it shone on Kirkwall docks...

-Do you came from there?- he asked, leaning himself on the banister.

-...Amell do, yes.- she answered after a little pause. She didn't seem keen to talk about it, because then she said: -Anyway its effect was different from this one... I wonder how it is in the rest of the world... In others bodies of water... ...did you have any near your house?

-In Honnleath? Well... there were some nearby, yes... My sister Mia and I had to reach them every morning with our chariot, when it wasn't rainy season, to collect water for bathing and watering the fields. ...well, truthfully we _should have to_ , but usually it ended in a chess challenge the evening before, betting about who would have to wake up early and go all the way there...- he remembered with a nostalgic smirk.

-And how it would end?

-...usually she won. She was good at that damned game. When she did not want to do something, she usually challenged me or our brothers and after her victory she had this stuck-up grin on her face... yes, then maybe she felt a little guilty, especially with Rosaline, the youngest, but it was... _frustrating_. Then one day my brother Branson and I decided to practice together in secret, until we got better than her... we challenged her and the look on her face when she finally lost is still one of my dearest memory...- he laughed.

The mage joined him. -Do you miss them?

-...sometimes. But I don't regret my choice to became a Templar.- he clarified. -...do you miss your family?

-...sometimes.- she echoed. -My brothers, at least.

-...forgive me. I wasn't very tactful.

Hearing this, he looked at him with a raised brow: -Why? It was me that asked the question first. And I don't think you can see your brothers more that I can see mine.

-No, but... I had the choice. You, instead...- he began to say, full of sorrow, but he stopped when he saw something going through her eyes.

-A choice.- she repeated. -No, magic isn't a choice, that's true.- she admitted, but even if she said nothing else, Cullen got the impression that there was something untold. Before he could investigate it, however, she said: -Anyway, I don't miss my previous life. Do you?

-No, I... I mean... I miss some things, but... this life has, uhm... its good points.- he muttered, blushing again and tearing his gaze from her. He was grateful for the wind, that at least freshened a little his warm face.

He totally paralyzed when she leaned with her head on his shoulder.

She was of average height, so that was easy to do, making Cullen able to elate himself with the scent of her hair: she didn't wear any perfume, at least that he could tell, and she smelled of soap, dust from the Library and a little bit of sweat, thanks to the heat. The blend went straight to his head.

Before he was even aware of it, he slid an arm around her waist, the armor bands scraping her lovely and so damned nightie, and he touched with his fingers her naked thigh. She leaned back her head, gazing at him with her big, dark eyes, and a moan left him. He stoop over her and...

...he let her go abruptly, staving her off with little grace. He flinched, his ears deaf with the sound of his heartbeat.

-I-I'm sorry! I can't, this is... completely inappropriate and I... I apologize, I s-shouldn't have... I...- he stuttered, prey of panic and his own desire.

-Cullen...

-I can't, this is... I...

-Cullen, it's not a problem.- she cut him off and her voice was the same as ever, firm and calm. He shook his head, taking another step back. He wanted to sink in the floor, to flee, to run away... Maker, wouldn't a jump out of the balcony be quick enough?

-I... I _can't_.- he repeated, his voice almost pained.

He was afraid to look up, to look at her and find annoyance in her eyes, scorn... or worse, _boredom_. But she was silent for a long time and in the end he dared to rose his gaze.

And she was there, still leant against the banister, but now facing him: a few strands escaped from her chignon and they were now dancing on her face, brushing the borders of the tattoo around her eye.

And she was _smiling_ , looking at him.

For the umpteenth time they eyes met and he was lost: he came back to reality only when she began to speak. -It's not a problem, Cullen.- she repeated. -We have all the time of the world, here, isn't it true?- she said kindly and at the same time with a feral note that caused in him a shiver of desire. -In the meantime, we can keep on having this pleasurable and absolutely innocent moments, which no Maker could never disapprove of.- she assured him with a grin.

Cullen swallowed on nothing, but he wasn't able to not make a step towards her. The mage, however, turned around and opened her book, maybe resuming her reading. -I...- he tried to say.

-I like your company. You are an interesting person and sometimes you manage to make me forget that it's not only with fantasy that I want to fly and it's not only in my book that I want to see places. Sometimes, you are the reason why I don't want to be anywhere else, Cullen. You should be proud of that.- she joked.

But he really was. The idea that he could to that, that he mattered to her, was...  gratifying. Almost ecstatic.

He didn't dare to approach her like before and he didn't dare to touch her, but he took another step forward, looking at her with worship. -You are special, Eyen.- he murmured. He didn't risk to add anything else, but she seemed to be fine with that. She seemed to understand.

They stayed on that balcony for a long time, she kept in her reading and he alternating between staring at her and at the night before them. They talked again, a little bit. Enjoying every moment.

The following day, it was publicly  announced the Harrowing of Eyen Amell.

 

 

***

 

One drop.

Another one. A resurfacing memory. So recent, so vivid, so perfect. He can almost grasp it.

Again, it's lost. In the sea of his memories. In the lake?

Calenhad. They looked at Lake Calenhad. Together.

He and Eyen.

She was his.

Not like he wanted? Not like she wanted? It was _better_ , it meant _something_.

They had time. They had time for him to understand how deep would have been his betrayal. To the Templar Order. With a mage. How much it mattered. They had time.

They should have had time?

He feared the Harrowing. He feared it more than his own test  to officially enter in the Order. He would not have borne to lost her. He was chosen. To supervise her trial. Was that a trial itself? To test if he would have been brave enough to hurl the final blow, had she not passed hers?

But she didn't fail. She went over it. Her trial. Their trials. The Harrowing. She kept on being _his_ harrowing. So lovely, so desirable.

Then she went away anyhow.

With the Grey Wardens. Away. Where he couldn't reach her.

He devoted himself body and soul to his Templar training. Set aside, in a corner of his mind where she shouldn't have come out anymore. Seep through. Drop by drop.

Then the Circle fell. His friends were killed. Demons...

- **Why are you harassing yourself so much? ...or is it _'harrowing'_? The proper word?**

He shut himself in a cage. A barrier. Made of magic and faith. He prayed.

-" **You are so stiff, Cullen."**

...no.

- **You have a dirty mind, don't you? Did you liked it? When did you bring these words to mind, her voice?**

No.

- **And it's true, you _are_ stiff. "We will do it here, won't we?"**

No!

- **Oh, yes... We will broke you, will ruin your pretty choir boy face...**

No no no no no

- **It will be pleasurable, trust me. It will be fun. It will be "so love..."**

-NO!!! Stop it, no!!!

A wave. Made of purifying magic. A cry. His? Of the demon?

He is exhausted.

-No... no, you will not take it from me... You will not stain it with your filthy words, your demoniac whisper! No... _please_. Let me... keep this memory. Just this one.

His voice breaks, hoarse with his pain, with his exhaustion.

Something falls on the ground.

A drop. A tear, some sweat.

A memory.

 

 

**~** **The end** **~**

**Author's Note:**

> ...so. This was the first time I translated an entire story in english and I'm not really sure about the result. Anyway I hope it has few errors and it's readable.  
>  I wrote it to take part at the first edition of the Prompt Challenge, hosted by the Facebook page of Dragon Age - Italia, with prompt 52 (the quote in the beginning). It was first published on EFP, under my alias Chase.  
> What to say about it? I kind of like to harass Cullen. Ehm.  
> And Eyen Amell is my Warden in DAO. She is kind of bipolar, usually calm and collected, but she likes to "see the blood flowing, was it yours or of someone else", to quote Zevran. And she loves to be the main cause of this flowing, was it during a fight or... in other ways. *if you know what I mean*... at least for Alistair and, before she met him, for the unfortunate Cullen of this story.  
> Anyway, I had fun in writing (and a little bit even in translating) it, I hope you like it.  
> Thanks for reading!


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